The Broken Palace
by Dr Piggage
Summary: Harry Potter is in a far away solar system, hundreds of years after his last memory. How did he get here... and why?


Disclaimer: Any actual names or likenesses of celebrities and characters are used in a fictitious manner. We don't own Harry Potter or Firefly.

 **Present...  
**

Book sighed, shaking his head sadly. Simon looked up, across the table. "What is it?" he asked.  
"Oh," Book said, his eyebrows knotting. He gestured to the newspaper in his hands, "I was just reading about that poor man who fell seventeen floors at the Alliance Commons!" He shook his head again.  
Simon leaned back in his chair. "I can't bring myself to mourn a government official, Preacher. The fewer corrupt psychopaths after River, the better."

Book leaned forwards. "You don't know anything about this man. He probably had a family! No one deserves to be m-"

Harry sprinted through the door, leapt over the table and kept running straight through to the cargo bay.

Book and Simon exchanged a glance and they followed, chairs clattering to the floor behind them.

Panting, Simon reached the balcony above the hold.

"Is something wrong Harry?" Simon shouted.

The hull rumbled as the ramp began to descend.

"Is she in trouble?" he asked again.

"I don't know," Harry said, back still turned, "but something's not right."

Simon hurried down the stairs. "I'll catch up."

Bouncing on balls of his feet, Harry waited for the gap to widen.

Book, from the metal walkway above, shouted, "Just be careful and don't draw attention-" but Harry had already gone, scrambling over the lowering ramp and right into the bustling chaos of Beumonde's largest city.

Harry carved a path through the crowd; towards the entrance of a well-lit side street. He skidded around the corner, barely managing to avoid colliding with a veritable horde; spread from a doorway like smoke.

The movement of the crowd pulled at his shirt uncomfortably as he pushed his way to the entrance.  
"-orram crazy bitch started going for them…" Harry heard a man exclaim.  
Harry grimaced.  
Finally getting clear he dashed through the opening, soon reaching a railing that overlooked a cave-like room with a bar, tables, chairs and… bodies.

"Harry!" Mal exclaimed, a few meters to his left. "Get that girl under control or God help me…"

Harry nodded and took in the chaos before him. Former patrons covered the floor, while a violent struggle took centre stage. At the focus of the mayhem was-

"River!" Harry yelled.

He vaulted the metal railings and landed with a tight roll, drawing the attention of some of River's attackers. Harry strode forwards and quickly dispatched them with a flurry of well-placed jabs.

A groan from his right drew his attention.  
"Jayne?" he asked, brow furrowed.  
"The girl." Jayne croaked out from a fetal position.  
Harry looked back to River, frown turning to scowl.

The last of River's opponents found a place on the floor.  
Harry approached.

The two circled each other like sharks. River kicked out and Harry blocked.  
The circling continued. The only sound was of broken glass underfoot.  
"River it's me! Try to focus-"  
River launched another kick, this time twice as fast as before. Harry hissed as he felt something sharp stab into his arm as he blocked.  
"Okay!" he panted, "Not quite what I meant."  
River advanced and Harry reacted quickly, dodging the first few strikes before diving behind the bar.  
He pulled the shard of glass from his arm with a grunt, still keeping an eye on her.  
Harry wiped sweat from his forehead with his good arm, shoulders relaxing slightly. He grinned at her shakily, leaning forward ever-so-slightly.  
"Truce?"  
In an identical motion both Harry and River lunged for the gun on the bar between them.  
River got there first. Harry knocked it from her grasp.  
Without pause they pursued it down the bar, River vaulting over chairs; Harry over the unconscious barman. Glancing at the rapidly slowing gun, Harry launched himself across the bar, crashing into River as she swiped for it. Harry's momentum sent them crashing into one of the only standing tables, breaking them apart.  
Harry rolled into a kneeling position, breathing hard.  
He looked up to stare down the barrel of the gun.

Harry's eyes widened.

River pulled the trigger.

The gun vanished.

Harry looked down at his outstretched hand in shock, a laugh escaping his lips.  
River wasted no time. She picked up a discarded knife and stabbed at Harry's neck.

Nothing happened. Harry looked up at the sound of metal clattering to the floor. Book stood behind River with a pistol to the back of her head.

River was tensed, her eyes narrowed, as she glared at Harry. Harry stared back, eyes searching.  
Two bodies collapsed, motionless.

 **Two weeks earlier…**

"Peter Nicholson, deputy head of the Department for Inter-Planetary Legalities how can I help?"  
He tapped a tattoo on the polished oak desk.  
"Oh Hi there James! Why'd you let me say all that crap? Wha-"

Peter stopped tapping.

"You're sure?" He said. "There can be no mistake about this."  
Peter was very still as he listened to a lengthy reply.  
"As you say." He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can."  
Putting the phone down carefully, Peter surveyed the room. The seventh floor of the Alliance Commons was home to the legal department. The sound of ringing phones, chatting and whining printers kept all but the loudest conversation private.  
Peter pushed back his chair and made his way quickly to the centre of the room, following the central ring balcony around to the other side of the floor. He leaned on the banister, waiting for the lift to arrive.  
"I wouldn't lean on that if I were you."  
"Sorry?" Peter asked, turning to an attractive woman in a sharp black suit and with strangely coloured eyes.  
"We don't want any tragic accidents." She said with a slight wave of her hand.  
"Of course not Sir." Peter replied with a smile, straightening up.  
The elevator doors opened and Peter stepped in alone. He leaned over and pressed the button for the seventeenth floor.  
The harsh white light of the elevator reflected off the diamonds in Peter's cufflinks. The lift moved upwards with a slight jolt and Peter tugged at each sleeve with sharp motions. The elevator came to a halt, the doors opening without a sound.  
Peter strode forwards onto the sixteenth floor balcony.  
The twenty-four-seven cafe was full, but it was as if time had stopped. People stood and sat as still and silent as statues. Peter walked right past.  
He reached the other side of the floor, not visible from the cafe due to the large chandelier that hung over the central atrium. As soon as he was out of sight of the cafe, Peter saw James, his good friend and the Head of Defence Budgeting leaning against the balcony, foot tapping the floor.  
"Peter!" James greeted, grasping his shoulder, "Good to see you."  
He continued, "I've got the evidence, but I need you to get it to Beth for me…" he trailed off. "I'm sure they're watching me."  
"You've always been paranoid James." Peter said with a smile.  
"You can never be too paranoid." James said with a sigh.

They shook hands.

Peter pocketed the red data card.  
"Have you got any other copies?" Peter said quietly.  
"No, of course not."  
"Is something bothering you James?" Peter asked.  
James sighed, leaning back against the bannister and putting his hand in his pocket. "It's noth-"  
He paused.  
"James?" Peter queried.  
James pulled his hand out of his pocket, a slip of paper in his palm.  
"That wasn't there before." He said, frowning. "And it's in my writing!"  
Peter stepped forwards, gently taking it from his outstretched hand and placing it in James' top pocket.  
"What-" James asked.  
Peter grabbed James by the neck, lifted him up and over the balcony. Peter held him there, 17 floors above the ground.

He released his grip.

James fell silently for the most part, legs and arms flailing uselessly. He released a final, choked scream that was quickly cut off by the fatal impact.  
Noise filled floor seventeen as the cafe once again buzzed with chatter.

Peter blinked heavily, shook his head slightly and then looked over the balcony in panic.  
"James!" He bellowed, but it was lost in the cacophony of screams that rose from the ground floor, echoing like sirens around the building.  
Peter fell to his knees, palms upturned and head hanging.  
"Why? Why would he jump?" He croaked, then began sobbing.

An attractive woman in a sharp suit stood on the second story balcony, watching as the man Peter was led out to an ambulance, a blanket around his shaking shoulders. She ignored the chaos around her and it dutifully ignored her too. She held up the red data card in her palm and then closed her fist with a slight snapping sound. Opening her hand again she scattered red dust over the edge.  
Brushing her hands she backed away from the balcony. Shrouded in shadows, she smiled; and disappeared.

AN: Regular updates will begin in a few months. That time will be spent making sure the rest of the story is coherent and well planned. Until then, have a look at our community! Please Follow!


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